LFSH: 1 Whispers of Freedom
by retirw
Summary: The first story in a new series called Lives, Fortunes and Sacred Honor. This is set in the 1700's before and during the American Revolutionary War.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR NOTE: My humblest apologies I keep telling myself that I won't start a story until I finish a few I already have posted. My muse just raspberried me. This is Trevin Tanner's story. The main story will be set just before and during the American Revolutionary War. Whispers of Freedom is basicaly a prequel to the main story. Hope you enjoy this.

My heartfelt thanks go out to those wonderful people that keep my stories readable. Pookwana of the many questions. K.T. the opionated and of course The Sound of the Flute who gets these whipped into a readable form.

As usual if it is between the //it indicates telepathy or something similar// if it is _Italics it's thoughts some which are better off unspoken._

This story will deal with a few ugly issues. Slavery, abuse, discipline of a slave amoung other things. Keep in mind it was a different world at that time.

**Whispers of Freedom**

**It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honours that we are fighting, but for freedom — for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself.**

**The Declaration of Arbroath Arbroath Abbey, Scotland 1320ad**

1756

mid summer

Albemarle County, Virginia Colony

The tall, powerfully built Peter Jefferson placed himself protectively between his son Thomas and the unfamiliar doeskin clad natives.

"Tad?" twelve year old Thomas asked in awe, still young enough not to comprehend the potential danger.

The silver haired old man's gaze sharpened, studying the pair. Giving a gesture, he looked back to the wooded hillside. A rustle from the under brush and a warrior led out a tiny boy hardly bigger than a toddler. Sandy hair hung loose to his shoulders in soft ringlets. Large sapphire blue eyes in a well tanned face studied the Jeffersons, father and son. A friendly smile and the boy turned loose of the warrior's hand and trotted over to stand before the wide eyed Welshman, staring back in fascination.

"Who are ye little one and where came you?" Peter breathed in dismay. _A captive? Mayhap I can trade for the boy._

The little boy tilted his head questioningly, obviously not understanding the words. Thomas peered around his father, curiously studying the stranger.

"He's hungry." Thomas pushed past Peter and calmly accepted an enthusiastic hug. "Are there any biscuits left from our lunch?"

"In the basket," Peter answered softly, studying the strangers worriedly. Their garments were not cut in the same pattern that he had seen among the local tribes or even among the tribes over the mountains that he had come in contact with.

"Come on." Thomas tugged on the little one's hand leading him over to the basket. Soon, the pair were sharing the biscuits. "Stop that," Thomas giggled as the smaller boy snuffled him.

Peter relaxed slightly as the warriors watched the two boys interact. The stoic expressions lifted, revealing faint smiles and open curiosity.

Little fingers examined Thomas' face and hands thoroughly. "Here, you can have another biscuit. You don't need to lick the crumbs off my fingers," Thomas protested faintly as he led his charge back over to the older men.

"Do you speak English?" Peter spoke to the elder. _He's __**white!**__ His eyes are as blue as the boy's. A grandson perhaps? Near a third of these braves have light colored eyes. Are these the white Indians that the locals speak of in whispers?_

"Tadig, cystal." The little boy trotted over, holding out the cookie to share.

Peter's eyes widened as the words registered. _Indians that speak WELSH?_

"You are of the Cymry?" Peter asked, carefully enunciating the words.

Voices were raised in excited tones and the warriors moved closer.

"He speaks real words."

"They have red hair like the old ones."

"So fair skinned like the inside of a potato."

"Don't be rude. They can't help it if the Hanging God has not finished baking them."

"Hush children," the old warrior huffed. "Sit, talk as men."

"I am Daffyd ap Rhys," the old man said.

"Peter Jefferson," the planter replied. "My son Thomas named for my father."

"The boy is Trevin ap Tannah ap Daffyd," ap Rhys answered and began to introduce his companions.

The men sat under the branches of the chestnut tree studying each other. The long day caught up with the little boy and he was soon curled up on the blanket from the picnic basket, sleeping soundly, a little hand tightly clasping Thomas' fingers.

"The grandfathers said long ago we came from the east in great boats, seeking to be free of a Chieftan without honor who would sell his people to the Outlanders. There were spotted buffalos and long haired, short legged deer with us. Bad times came and they died or were eaten." The old man spoke. Peter and Thomas listened closely some of the words were unfamiliar or a pronunciation had changed over the long years making it more difficult to understand. "The old ones said we came from a place of mountains and narrow valleys with falling waters."

"Aye, Cymru is such a land my grandfather said," Peter agreed. _Cattle and sheep? _"Why have you come?"

We have traveled many moons seeking the pale men," Daffyd explained.

Jefferson studied the small boy. "Shouldn't his mother be with him? He's still small enough to nurse yet." Peter scowled, paternal instincts coming to the fore.

"His mother died at his birthing. His father, Tannah, gone before that. Three days ago, his foster mother was bitten by a black snake in the water and died. It is our hope among you we will find a companion for the little one." Worry was clearly seen on the old man's face.

"Come with me back to my home. I have a slave woman who birthed a child that did not live, she will nurse the boy for now," Jefferson offered.

"I thank you. Would you sell this slave woman?" The old man asked.

"Tabitha has a son as well. I do not sell mothers away from their children," Jefferson refused.

"It is not a good thing to separate mother and child," the old man sighed..

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The wide eyed 'Indians' studied the big house and many buildings. Fascinated whispers filled the air as they saw their first black people.

"Nathan, run and tell your mother I have need of her," Peter ordered a black child of about 8 years.

"Yes suh, Master Jefferson." The boy sped off.

Soon, a sad eyed slave woman approached. "You wanted me Master Jefferson?" The regal woman asked softly.

"Tabitha, this is Trevin, his mother has died." Peter lifted the sleeping boy out of Daffyd's arms.

"Poor baby." Tabitha moved a bit closer, nervously watching the 'wild' Indians. "This baby is white Master Jefferson," she hissed in surprise.

"And he's hungry. Take him to nurse," Peter ordered softly.

The little boy woke and rubbed his eyes, looking around in wonder.

"I'll take him, Suh." Tabitha held out her arms for the boy.

Willingly, the child went to the woman. Curious blue eyes examined Tabitha. Tiny fingers traced the three diagonal scars on each of the woman's cheeks, a lopsided smile was offered before he ducked his head shyly.

"You're a sweet child sure enough," Tabitha crooned.

"No!" Daffydd shook his head as Tabitha started around the side of the house. "My grandson stays with me," he protested in Welsh.

"Tabitha stay, my guests prefer that the child stays with them," Peter explained quietly.

The boy snuffled loudly, pressing his face against Tabitha's breast, little fingers pulled at the fabric entreatingly, frustrated little whimpers rose as he was kept from his goal. Flushing, the woman turned her back and loosened her dress. Positioning the boy, she flinched as the ravenous child latched on. A gentle hand took her elbow and helped her settle to the steps. A soft fur mantle was cast over her shoulder, covering the exposed flesh and the nursing child.

"Thank you, Suh." Tabitha raised her eyes and froze as she looked into the warrior's face.

"Beautiful earth woman, dark like fertile soil," the brave breathed softly in his own language.

"Momma," Nathan hissed worriedly, moving protectively closer.

"Peace, little warrior." The brave nodded to the boy and stepped away. "Tell the boy that I, Eban, would not harm his mother," the warrior ordered Peter Jefferson.

"Eban wants you to know he intends no harm to your mother, Nathan," Peter soothed. "He was making her more comfortable."

Nathan nodded nervously and moved closer to Tabitha.

Politely, the men and young Thomas ignored the nursing woman and the hovering boy and continued their conversation.

"Why did they give him to you, Momma?" Nathan scowled.

"He's very hungry Nathan," Tabitha sighed. "He's too little to just eat travel rations."

"I thought Indians was red men? His hair is like corn silks." Nathan moved closer, curiously studying the small intruder.

"Soft like rabbit fur," Tabitha mused, stroking a shaking hand over the silky curls.

"He got to many fingers." Nathan hesitantly touched a small hand. The baby stopped nursing and turned to look at Nathan. A sweet crooked smile greeted Nathan; little fingers curled trustingly around the boy's finger and held on before the baby turned back to his interrupted meal.

"He's a nice baby, Momma," Nathan giggled.

"Most babies are Nathan," Tabitha smiled sadly. Her heart ached for her son and his future. _Nathari my son, you should have been a king, instead you are a slave. May Cyirima your uncle die in pain and shame. Selling his brother's unborn son and widow to the Arabs. _Looking down at the stranger's child in her arms, she sighed. _This one is a blessing child. Master Jefferson is a kind man, a wise man even, but do I trust the knowledge of what this child is to him? Is it my Nathari you're here for little warrior? Maybe this is the reason the lioness told me to live instead of dying from shame. _

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The Welsh Indians camped on Peter Jefferson's land for the next several days. Obviously Tabitha's milk agreed with the boy, for he seemed to grow overnight. A sunny natured child, Trevin was remarkably quiet for a little boy. He was friendly with the other children on the plantation, even protective of Jefferson's young daughters, much to Peter's amusement when the boy growled at his wife when she tried to discipline them. But he would become restless and search until he found either Nathan or Thomas. Despite the adults efforts, Trevin would stubbornly go after his chosen boys. The bright eyed little warrior proved to be both stubborn and determined as well as an escape artist. Peter gave up and reassigned Nathan's duties when he discovered the baby trying to keep up in the long rows of tobacco while Nathan carried water to the field slaves, giving Nathan the job of keeping up with ever so active Trevin.

Daffydd grasped Peter's arm and pulled him back around the barn. The two men suppressed sniggers as they listened to Nathan lecturing the baby on why he couldn't climb into the loft in a mixed speech of English, mangled Welsh and what might have been an African dialect.

"I may have given Nathan a job too big for him," Peter chuckled.

"Trevin will obey him. Nathan is a companion," Daffydd smiled.

Peter's laughter trailed off as he struggled to remember something Daffydd's words had triggered. _It must be hearing the Welsh. What is it about a companion that is so important? I can almost hear Tad's voice telling old stories while we settled into our beds. _

"No, yah don't climb. You is to little, you'll fall and get hurt bad. You got ta wait down here while I fetch the eggs for Cook," Nathan ordered. "Don't you stick out that lip at me. I done tolt yah no. Now mind me." Nathan began to climb, only to hurry back down when Trevin started up the ladder.

"Nathan has his hands full. My grandson is most determined to follow," Daffydd snorted. "I wish him luck. The little falcon has flown his own course since drawing his first breath. Once he is assured of his way there is no turning him from it."

"I tolt you NO! Now yah's gonna get me in trouble," Nathan fussed, becoming desperate. "I got ta do mah chores and you is gonna mind me. Now sit your little behind down and don't you get up 'till I says yah can," Nathan ordered sharply.

The two men exchanged smiles and started on their way.

Nathan began to climb the ladder, breathing a sigh of relief as the baby stayed where he had been put. Quickly, the young slave gathered the eggs and hurried back to the ladder. Trevin sat in the clean straw exactly where he had been left.

"Hey you done gone ta sleep?" Nathan chuckled as his feet reached the ground and the boy didn't react. "You kin get up now. Baby? What's wrong with yah!" Nathan voice rose in concern.

Hearing Nathan's frightened voice, Daffydd spun around and hurried into the barn followed by a bewildered Peter.

Nathan raised fearful, tear-filled eyes. "I don' know what happened Massah."

Peter looked between the young boys and Daffydd. _What had just happened? He had heard nothing . . . how could Daffydd have heard Nathan? _

"Hush," Daffyd stroked Nathan's head calmingly. "It is part of Trevin's specialness. He waits for you. Here hold him on your lap. Yes like that, now breathe on his face. Yes, see he wakes for you." Daffydd gave a sigh of relief. _We have found a companion for our Draig. No, we have found two companions, but which is Trevin's shield brother? Is either of them his other self?_

"Is he sick? He's gonna die?" Nathan asked tearfully, leaning into the comforting touch while clinging tightly to the squirming baby.

Trevin seemed distressed, trying to wipe away the older boy's tears and licking the stains from his cheeks.

"He is not sick. It is part of him, like blue eyes and sticky fingers," Daffydd chuckled.

"Why's he always lickin' on stuff?" Nathan asked in disgust, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"That's how babies learn. Touch, taste, smell; they investigate things that way. Trevin more so than most." Daffydd lifted the baby into his arms.

"Now I will watch my grandson, you deliver those eggs. Tell them that I delayed you. Go now." Daffydd shooed the boy off.

"So my grandson, what do you think?" Daffydd bounced the boy.

"Nate? Tom?" Trevin wriggled to get down.

"No, you stay with me for now. Time for a nap," Daffydd chuckled.

"Not sleepy," Trevin protested as he relaxed against his grandfather's broad chest.

"Yes you are," Daffydd rocked a moment. "Told you so." He smiled down at the sleeping baby.

"What happened to Trevin?" Peter asked in concern, studying the sleeping child.

"He tried too hard. Not old enough yet to control where his ears would take him." Daffydd snuggled the boy closer. Worry drew the older man's face into serious lines. "Most learn control while at their mother's breast. He has never had a birth bond. It is dangerous for him to be without one."

_Must be a difference in word meanings. I thought he said the baby's ears took him someplace. _Peter chuckled to himself.

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The native warriors were well mannered and provided venison and other food from the surrounding forest, even provided some assistance in building a new smoke house. They seemed to be waiting for something. Three of the warriors disappeared only to return without fanfare carrying heavy packs.

**7777777WARNING 7777777 WARNING 7777777**

Trevin was playing with a carved wooden horse when he abruptly sprang to his feet snarling, and sped off as quickly as his little legs would take him, leaving Thomas looking bewildered.

"He's angry for some reason," Thomas yelled in response to his father's questioning call as he took off after the amazingly fast child.

Daffydd wasted no time in following his grandson and the older boy. Peter and Eban followed closely. A man's angry voice carried clearly as they came around the corner of the house.

Picking up speed, Thomas and the three grown men rushed towards the unfolding situation.

"Don't you be gettin' no airs boy. You ain't nothin' but a field nigger; that's all you is and all you ever gonna be." The huge black man towered over the young boy laying in the dust. Big hands curled around a wooden stave. "Master give that bitch and you to me so's I can do with you as I please." Drawing back his bare foot, the angry man kicked the boy in the ribs while raising his club to strike Nathan.

A tiny enraged snarl sounded and Trevin's little teeth sank into flesh as the boy attacked.

"What the hell?!" The furious man swung the billet of wood into the little warrior with a sickening crunch.

Nathan scrambled to his feet and swung a heavy wooden bucket into the man's back, staggering him.

"I'll kill you for that, boy," the giant hissed.

"Warrior woman," Eban breathed in admiration as Tabitha made her presence known. The tall powerful woman held an empty meat spit in her hand as she crouched protectively between the children and the huge man.

"Can't even give me children, worthless woman! Get back before I hit you too," the field slave hissed, swinging his club menacingly.

"Maybe your children would live if you didn't beat them out of me, pig," Tabitha snarled.

The big man charged only to fall into the dust as Tabitha dodged gracefully and swung the spit into his head with a hollow thump.

"Stupid man," Eban chuckled as he pulled a couple of strips of leather from his pouch and securely bound the groggy slave.

"I'm sorry Master Daffydd," Tabitha choked gently, gathering Trevin out of the frightened Nathan's arms.

"I felt bones moving in his chest where they aren't supposed to Momma," Nathan sobbed as he stroked a limp little arm.

"Are you hurt my son?" Tabitha asked calmly.

"Just a bloody lip and some bruises," Nathan answered in a calmer tone. "What about Trevin, Momma?"

"That is good, now run and bring me my medicine chest and a roll of bandages. And we will check the boy's injuries together," Tabitha ordered, taking the time to stroke her son's cheek tenderly before sending him to the house.

Trevin gave several pained gasps before he finally caught his breath and a frightened wail filled the air.

"Hush, hush, now brave little man. You have courage, but temper it with some good sense. Don't go hunting lions before rabbits," Tabitha crooned as she rocked the baby on her lap. Gentle fingers tenderly wiped blood off the boy's face. "My Nathari has a might protector. Now where did this blood come from, hey?" The woman examined the child but couldn't find any broken skin.

Daffydd hovered closely, finally laying a gentle hand on the dusty curls and kneeling down to face Tabitha.

"It isn't his," Eban growled. "The wolf cub marked his prey even if he wasn't big enough to pull down his buffalo."

"Eban is right Tad. Look at this bite. Do you think he was trying to hamstring Toby?" Thomas asked in amazement.

"I don't know," Peter answered shortly before turning to Tabitha. "How badly is the baby injured?"

"Sh, sh, Momma's got yah baby. I got you little man," Tabitha calmed Trevin enough to nurse. Gentle hands explored the tiny body.

"Might be he's got some broken ribs; hard to tell with him being so small. Baby's bones move different than a grown person. He might be hurt inside, but I don't think so. He's not bleedin' from his nose or mouth and his breathing seems fine. Toby didn't get a good swing at him the way he latched on in back that way. Mostly he's got the wind knocked out of him and scared bad," Tabitha answered in a calm tone.

"Tabitha, has Toby been mistreating you and Nathan?" Peter demanded.

"He been hitting us, Master Jefferson," Tabitha sighed.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have put an end to it," Peter said sadly.

"He knowed better than going after Nathan much. I could handle it, he was careful so's not to keep me from work," Tabitha answered emotionlessly.

"Why didn't you come to me or the Mistress?" Peter demanded gently.

"You give me to him to be his woman," Tabitha reminded.

"I didn't know he hurt you," Peter sighed.

"If you took me away from him. Toby would loose face. Then he'd have been even meaner when he took the girls," Tabitha answered.

"What girls?" Peter felt his stomach lurch.

"You made Toby taskmaster, Master Jefferson. Toby figured it was his right to break in the girls once they's women," Tabitha whispered.

Peter Jefferson straightened with a suppressed oath. "I strictly forbade such behavior. That is why I gave him a wife," Jefferson snarled.

"Amos, James, take Toby to the smithy and secure him. I will be there shortly," Peter ordered two of the gathered slaves.

"Son . . . Thomas, keep the women and the children well away from the smithy, please," Peter ordered calmly.

"Here Momma," Nathan panted as he sat down the small wooden chest beside his mother after rushing back from the house.

"Thank you, son. Now what should we use on these bruises?" She coaxed.

Nathan was soon absorbed in the world of healing while Daffydd and Eban hovered protectively over the pair.

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"Jacob, bring your knife and come with me," Peter ordered his stable master in a soft voice as he passed the man.

"Yes Massah Jefferson." Jacob paled and gulped.

"Get some water and some of those fresh apples than get back to work," Peter ordered the field hands as he stalked away.

"Jacob, what's tha Massah gonna do?" A soft voice asked in a frightened tone. "I never saw tha Massah so angry."

"Massah done warned that stupid man when he bought him offen the Matherlys. Massah Jefferson don't abide the meanness that Massah Matherly does. You all git back to work. Things is gonna git ugly," Jacob sighed, dragging his feet he headed for the Blacksmith shop.

Toby was struggling in his bonds when Peter arrived. "Amos, pump up the bellows and put an iron in the fire," Peter ordered sharply.

"Massah Jefferson, whatcha gonna do?" James asked softly.

"If he lives, I'll sell him off," Jefferson answered coldly.

"You give me that woman and boy, Massah Jefferson," Toby wailed.

"Fool! You hit a baby. A WHITE child," Amos hissed.

"This is about you disobeying me Toby. You've been hurting my children. You raped little girls not much older than my daughters," Peter hissed. "I gave you charge over people I treasure and you hurt them. You are no kind of a man. Today will end that illusion."

"You gonna cut him Massah Jefferson?" Amos squeaked in horror, cupping himself protectively.

"Yes," Peter growled angrily. "Did you know he was raping the children and beating Tabitha and Nathan?" Peter growled.

"Yes Massah Peter," Jacob admitted.

"Why didn't one of you come to me? I work in the fields with you everyday," Peter demanded.

"We was afraid. If we tolt you, you'd have punished Toby, then sent him back to the slave quarters." Jacob rubbed his head with a shaking hand.

"Is Toby the only one hurting people?" Peter demanded with a tired sigh.

"Yes suh, he's the only one what's hurtin' folks," Jacob said.

"Jacob, you're a good man. I've watched you, your hand is gentle. Who would you suggest putting over my people?" Peter asked curiously.

"Ben, Massah. I know he's young, but he's a fair man," Jacob answered after a long moment.

"James, Amos do you think Ben would make a good taskmaster?" Jefferson asked calmly.

"Yes suh, we does. We had to tie young Ben last time Toby went prowlin' in the women's quaters."

"I never want this to happen again. Do you hear me? These are your wives and children. If any man tries to take advantage of them I will sell him. If I discover you knew and didn't put a stop to it, I will sell you. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes Suh, Massah Jefferson," voices chorused.

"Is that iron hot yet Amos?"

"Yes suh," Amos answered faintly.

"Then, let's get this over with," Peter sighed.

**7777777 WARNING OVER 7777777**

The pained squeals finally fell silent. An unusual silence hung over the working men. No one spoke unless it was absolutely necessary and then only in whispers.

"Ben," Peter called as he stalked out into the field.

"Yes suh, Massah Jefferson," Ben straightened immediately.

"You are the new task master," Peter ordered.

"Yes suh," Ben frowned.

"Take care of my people, Ben," Peter ordered sadly, looking down at his bloody hands.

"Oh suh," Ben whispered. "You come with me Massah Jefferson and we'll get you cleaned up. No reason to take this bit of business up where tha children can see."

Peter vomited into the dirt and silent tears ran down his face as Ben scrubbed his hands clean.

"Massah Jefferson, maybe it won't ease your sorrow, but I thank you suh for what you did to Toby. Amy isn't but eleven, suh she cried most awful after Toby visited with her. She's my baby sister and they tied me up so's I couldn't stop him," Ben said calmly. "Said I'd only make things worse for ever'body."

"Your first job as taskmaster is to assign punishment; that includes yourself. You could have come to me any one of you," Peter Jefferson sighed.

"Yes suh." Ben nodded and looked at his feet shamefaced.

"No one has the right to do that to children Ben, no one. If you see one of our girls being misused you come and tell me. Even if it is a white man. If the girl's willing, then that's her business, but she's not to be forced," Peter sighed tiredly.

"I'll see to it Suh. Massah Jefferson, I ain't sure suh, would a month not being with they's families be a good punishment? I wouldn't want not to spend time with my momma and sisters for that long," Ben asked nervously.

"I think it would be a very good punishment Ben. Maybe it will make folks think on how precious their family is." Peter sighed and patted Ben's shoulder as he headed back to the big house.

"Massah Jefferson?"

"Yes Ben?"

"That baby, is he gonna be alright?" Ben chewed his lip.

"Tabitha thinks so."

"That's good, that's real good," Ben smiled.

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Daffydd was waiting when Peter walked toward the house. Silently, the two men strode beside each other.

"A difficult thing," Daffydd sighed.

"Most difficult. I just can't understand why a man would do such things," Jefferson said.

"Because you are a good man. Teach your Thomas well, so much depends upon it," Daffydd spoke seriously.

"What depends on it?" Peter stopped in his tracks.

"There will be a new way of things. A good way and your Thomas will be part of it," Daffydd answered clearly.

Peter's skin goosebumped in a sudden chill. _Second sight?_

"Gone now," Daffydd huffed, shaking his head. "Strange things and mists. Hard times are coming for your colonies, Peter. I see raised swords. Letters on paper and your Thomas standing tall among proud men. His weapon will be a pen more deadly than a sword. They will make a new world, it will take more than one lifetime. In that world, no man may own another."

"Being Chieftain is not an easy thing, Peter. Sometimes it is a very heavy burden. Do not let today eat at your spirit. It is done, learn from it so there will be no second time," Daffydd counseled as they began walking again.

"I'm sorry your Trevin was hurt," Jefferson started to run his fingers through his hair and flinched away from his own hand.

"Peter," Daffydd took the large hand in his smaller ones. "I see no evil here. It is a father's sorrow. It is time to let it go."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The crashing of the brush startled the deer that the small hunting party was stalking. Sighing, Peter Jefferson straightened, watching the buck bound away. All eyes turned to the rustling and waited for whatever was coming. Eban broke through the brush and trotted over. Leaning over, resting his hands on his knees, he tried to catch his breath.

"Best you go back to the big house," Eban panted.

"Has something happened?" Peter demanded, worry filling his tone.

"Not yet, but your woman is on the warpath. How have you lived so long, Peter? Everything is hiding," Eban blurted in amazement.

"That's all? No one is hurt?" Peter let out a relieved breath.

"Is that all? She was going to skin me. I think she would have too," Eban protested.

"What did you do to my wife?" Peter demanded.

"I was there," Eban spluttered his innocence. "It is your children that might not live out the day."

"Oh," Petter winced. "Bad?"

"Just like your father," Eban quoted with a smirk.

"Oh my," Peter winced.

"Are you frightened of your little woman?" Eban chuckled.

"You saw her," Peter snorted.

"We have a very nice village. You can stay with me," Eban offered helpfully.

"No help for it. Jane is a wonderful woman; she doesn't stay angry long. It's just that first volley. Maybe she'll have calmed down before I can get back." Peter stood tall and started back.

"We will try for another deer," Daffydd smiled faintly. _So there is a woman inside all those clothes. A passionate woman even. _

"Daffydd, it might be well if you go as well. Mistress Jane will want to speak with you," Eban grinned evilly.

"Me? I have done nothing," Daffydd said uncomfortably.

"Trevin," Eban chuckled.

"Oh," Daffyd sighed.

Daffydd slowly followed Jefferson back towards the potential massacre. Eban followed behind, cheerfully whistling a tune he had heard the night before.

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The silence was the first thing they noticed when they drew near. Cautiously, the three men advanced, none willing to show his nervousness in front of the others in the face of the enemy.

Peter groaned as the chaos met his eyes. Steam rose from the dying fire, the wash pot lay at an angle in the ashes. The long lines of laundry lay in the dirt of the back garden. His prize milk cow Maude was calmly munching the tops out of the new corn with wash tangled about her horns. A few chickens scratched in the dirt, picking up shelled corn from the tipped over grinder.

"Eban, was there a raid?" Daffydd demanded.

"No Daffydd, just four children. One of yours and three of Peters." Eban grinned widely, bouncing on his toes.

"Oh this is bad," Peter moaned, taking in the mess.

Loud yells, thumps and clangs broke out. Wide eyed, the three men watched helplessly as all hell broke loose once more.

"Don't let them get away, I just got the mud off them," the red faced Jane bellowed, her gown stained and hair hanging down in tangled rat tails.

Thomas was racing after the pudgy little Anna streaking across the yard. Tabitha had snagged the naked Randolf in a large towel and was holding tightly to the toddler. Ten year old Martha had a death grip on her four year old sister Lucy who was only clothed in a large towel while being drug across the yard to their mother. Nathan was having a hard time of it trying to catch the soapy fast moving Trevin. The short bare little legs flashed in the sun as the boy darted under a railing, avoiding Nathan's grasping hands once more.

"Tabitha, please help me get these three rinsed and dressed," Jane gritted.

"Yes, Miss Jane. I don't know what got into the children today." Tabitha reached out and took the other twin from Thomas and headed into the house.

"Martha, don't turn loose of Lucy and take her back to the bath room," Jane ordered. "Well don't just stand there, catch him. MEN!" Jane stormed into the house.

Daffydd's lips twitched as Trevin's bright eyes studied the situation once Nathan had him cornered between the work table and the side of the house. Gathering himself, the little boy shifted to scamble under the low table.

"Gottcha now, yah little devil," Nathan crowed and dove under the table only to see Trevin back peddle and jump across him, heading for open ground.

"We should have warned him," Eban snickered ruefully.

"Probably," Daffydd agreed as he watched the naked boy streak across the yard.

Nathan gathered himself and charged after the boy only to slip, fall and slide several feet in the mud created by the spilled wash tubs.

Peter rushed foreword only for Trevin to dart between the long legs, tripping the big man. Peter looked up from the squelshing mud in time to see Trevin headed back in his direction trying to avoid Eban's grasp. Adding insult to injury, muddy little feet knocked the wind out of him as the child bounded like a deer out of Eban's reach.

"TREVIN!" Daffydd barked.

The little boy came to a screeching halt, causing the gangly Thomas to trip over him and go sprawling into the mud next to his father.

"Come here," Daffydd ordered and pointed at a spot just in front of him.

Trevin hurried over and looked up innocently.

"What has happened here?" Daffydd asked softly.

"We were playing, Tadig," Trevin bounced excitedly. "We'th playing tag."

"Trevin, this was not playing," Daffydd sighed. Kneeling down, he turned Trevin to see all the damage.

Trevin's litte brows drew down. "Tadig, Vin didn't do. Promithed not play near fire."

"Were you playing in the barn?" Daffydd studied the mess.

"Yes, Luthy, 'Dolph, Anna, Tom, and Nate," Trevin answered. "We'th playing Look-over-the-Hill." Vin chewed on his bottom lip.

"Look-over-the-Hill?" Peter walked over, trying to shake the clumps of mud off.

"All but one hide, then he looks for his companions. It is good training for a hunter or warrior," Eban answered softly.

"Hide and Seek." Thomas named the game as he walked over. His attempts to wipe off the mud only smeared it around.

"I sorry Massah Jefferson. I was trying to keep the little ones out from under foot while the women was doin' the laundry." Nathan stood before the big man shakily.

"Do you know what happened?" Peter asked gently.

"No suh, not for certain," Nathan admitted.

"Tad, It's not Nathan's fault. He was helping me get Lucy out of the bull's stall," Thomas interrupted.

"Oh God, she could have been killed." Peter paled and shakily made his way over to the steps and sat down with a thump.

"Nathan distracted him while I grabbed Lucy." Thomas sat down beside his father and leaned against his father's powerful shoulder. "I've never been so scared in my life Tad."

"Were you hurt any of you?" Peter reached out and began to examine Nathan worriedly.

"That ole bull didn't hurt nobody," Nathan soothed.

"Thomas was a fussin' and shakin' Miss Lucy a might. He didn't hurt her none, just scared was all. That's when I heard Trevin a fussin' up a storm. Randolph was climbing the ladder into the loft. I went over and pulled him down and took him over to Thomas. I got Trevin and Miss Anna herded up. I'm sorry Suh, I never seen she had unfastened Maude's stall door." Nathan confessed.

"I guess Maude decided on a snack. She loves getting in the garden," Thomas reminded with a defeated sigh. "The next thing I knew, she was tangled in clothes lines and dragging clean laundry in the dirt. Momma tried to keep her out of the garden with a broom. I think one of the clothes lines got tangled around the wash pot and the laundry tubs. There were women screaming and the little ones must have thought it was a game because they were out in the middle of it playing tag. Nathan and I were trying to save what clean laundry we could. We found the four of them making mud pies once things settled a bit," Thomas yawned widely.

"Tomorrow is a new day," Peter sighed and hugged his son. "I am proud of **both** of you. Very proud. Some times things . . . happen. You saved my daughter's life today. Tomorrow the bull gets moved to the far field. I should have never left him this close to the house. Will you two help clean this up before you go get baths?"

"Yes Suh. I might as well milk Maude since she's close to the house, don't you think? It's not very much early." Nathan studied the sun for a moment.

"That would be fine. That is, if you can find the milk bucket in this mess," Peter laughed.

"I'll start with the laundry lines." Thomas stood up and moved tiredly towards the dirt strewn laundry.

"I will take care of those baskets of clean clothes since I'm still clean." Eban bounced off.

"You gather up as much of the corn as you can and put it in the basket," Daffydd ordered, tapping Trevin's nose.

"Yes." Trevin sat down in the dust and worked diligently at recovering each kernel.

"Daffydd, the baby is naked," Peter reminded softly as the two men rinsed out the wash tubs before setting them back up.

"Yes," Daffydd led the way over to the big iron pot resting in the ashes of the smoldering fire.

"Jane is not going to be happy," Peter grimaced.

"Your people wear too many clothes," Daffydd huffed, lifting a line full of muddy clothes out of his way.

"Jane just gave him a bath," Peter reminded.

"I'll take him for a swim when we're finished here," Daffydd said distractedly.

"He's a baby," Peter protested in shock.

"We traveled much by canoe. Trevin swims like an otter," Daffydd explained. "I would not have my grandson drown. It made the journey easier if he had a chance to wear himself out as well."

"Oh, that makes sense. You'll make sure he's clean when Jane see's him again?" Peter asked.

"Yes. How does one wash clothes? The fire is easily rebuilt," Daffyd asked thoughtfully.

"It is a job that no man can perform satisfactorily as far as Jane is concerned," Peter chuckled, remembering several explosions of temper when he had attempted to help in the past.

"We can take these to the creek and wash the mud from them. That will be of some aid," Daffydd suggested.

"Bring the men in from the fields to help. They'll enjoy the break and a chance to get in the water," Peter agreed. "For heavens sake, don't put anything with colors in the same basket with whites. The red's and pinks need to be in their own basket. Jane will kill us all if we let them bleed onto the other clothes."

Peter began to laugh as the other hunting party appeared. The nervous men had their bows strung and arrows nocked. Disbelieving looks took in the mess.

The scent of burning filled the air and black smoke poured forth from the summer kitchen.

"Eban, take the laundry to the creek and bathe Trevin. It is deer for supper. Bring me back some watercress as you come. Owain, you and Gryffydd take your kill and clean it. The rest of you, we'll need corn to roast," Daffydd quickly ordered before hurrying into the kitchen to pull the burning food out of the heat.

"Thomas, where is Beth?" Peter demanded. _Now the damn cook is missing._

"Sarah's in labor. Momma let Beth go to be with her daughter," Thomas answered.

"That's good. Thomas, run and tell Amos and Stephen that the punishment is temporarily rescinded. They can come and wait for the new baby. A man should be there when his child comes into the world. Amos should get to see his first grandchild as well," Peter smiled.

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Peter hesitated before joining Jane on the steps as the sun went down.

"Are you alright?" Peter handed her a glass of wine.

"Peter, I need brandy at least. Maybe some of the Irish whiskey," she huffed.

"That bad?" he smiled encouragingly.

"The twins are cutting more teeth. Lucy tore her favorite dress. My garden is a shambles. I have to do the laundry again tomorrow. I had to bathe the babies twice. I burned supper, yelled at my babies and I could just scream." Jane pounded her empty fist against the step.

"I love you." Peter stroked her cheek.

"I look like I was pulled through a thicket backwards. I sag. Where I don't sag, I droop. I found grey in my hair this morning. I'm going to be a grandmother in a month's time," Jane ranted.

"And you are more beautiful then the day I married you," Peter smiled warmly.

"He's right you know, you're a very beautiful woman," Eban walked up carrying Trevin wrapped in a robe.

"Don't push me little man," Jane scowled.

"Don't you smile at me, young man. I know what kind of mischief you're capable of," Jane huffed as Trevin smiled crookedly and reached out for her.

Peter chuckled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with a loving hand. "It's not like you to hold a grudge Mrs. Jefferson."

Jane sighed tiredly, "Just tired."

Trevin wriggled excitedly snuffling and began making hungry baby sounds.

"Oh," Jane groaned, wrapping her arms around herself tightly and rocked in misery.

Peter and Eban exchanged a look of masculine helplessness. 

"Jane? Are you in pain?" Peter coaxed worriedly.

"Of course I'm in pain. **YOUR** children went to sleep to soon," she snarled.

Peter flinched back at the unexpected temper.

"Here." Eban held out the fussing baby. "He's always hungry." The warrior smirked.

"MEN!" Jane hissed, springing to her feet and snatching the naked baby before storming into the house.

"You're still beautiful," Eban called after the slamming of the door.

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Eban chuckled and sent a teasing look Jane's way when Lucy helpfully suggested that they should wash nightclothes first since Momma and Daddy had to sleep nekid last night.

Jane and Peter both flushed as they hurriedly went about their chores.

Later that morning, Peter walked out of the house to find Daffydd and Eban sitting on a buffalo hide with the three heavy packs off to the side waiting.

"Daffydd?" Peter asked curiously.

"It is time to make bargains, Peter ap Thomas Jefferson," Daffydd answered seriously.

"Business then," Peter agreed. "Tabitha, bring tea for three," Jefferson called into the house before he settled cross-legged on to the buffalo hide.

Eban's dancing eyes followed Tabitha until she returned to the house. "Beautiful woman, she has the heart of a warrior," he sighed dreamily.

"Eban will not trespass, Peter. He is one for sweet honey not the stick," Daffydd assured Jefferson for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"A man can dream," Eban huffed.

"Trevin needs to nurse." Daffydd began negotiations.

"You want to buy Tabitha?" Peter scowled. "I already told you I will not sell her away from Nathan."

"Trevin needs the companion even more. I would trade for the woman and her son," Daffydd responded.

"You would take them west over the mountains. A hard life, a dangerous life away from all they know."

"Nathan will be his brother. Tabitha his mother. They will not be slaves, Peter Jefferson." Daffydd answered. "Such a thing is worth much hardship."

"I can not afford to simply give them to you. They are very valuable," Peter answered miserably.

"We will buy their freedom," Daffydd answered calmly, opening one of the packs and displaying a wealth of pelts.

"I would have to travel many miles to trade the furs for silver and then I would still need a housekeeper," Peter sighed wearily.

"Silver?" Daffydd frowned.

"Like this." Peter offered a silver coin.

"Peter, this will not keep you warm at night. It will not protect you from the elements," Daffydd chided.

"With this I can purchase all those things and more. Things from so very far a way," Peter answered.

"The old ones say that the pale people treasured the shining rocks." Daffydd opened a pouch and poured the contents into Peter's hand. Stones sparkled, others glowed.

Peter stared in disbelief. "Are those diamonds?"

"Some. There is topaz, ruby, sapphire, emerald, freshwater pearls, amber, this one is called turquoise. All our people gave toward Trevin's need. For these will you sell the woman and boy?" Daffydd asked.

"Daffydd, where did you find these?" Jefferson asked in amazement.

"The diamonds came from the west. Ruby and emerald we found near our home on Grandmother Mountain before we went north. Sapphire we traded from the people to the west. The turquoise and topaz we got in trade from the people to the south. The pearls can be found occasionally. The amber came with the grandfathers from the old home. There is much trade. The pale men want the silver metal?" Daffydd asked.

"Gold is even better and easier to pack than furs," Peter responded.

"Gold? The yellow metal that the Spanishmen hunt?" Daffydd asked.

"I will sell them to you for the furs and five of the stones. But only if Tabitha is agreeable to it." Peter examined the stones in his hand.

"Free them Peter. If they go or stay it is then by their choice," Daffydd answered.

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"Is this what you want Tabitha?" Peter Jefferson asked quietly.

"Yes, Master Jefferson. That's where Nathari and I is suppose to be." Tabitha stood proudly.

"Well then, here is your emancipation papers. Take care and don't loose them. I'm no longer your master Tabitha, please call me Peter." Jefferson smiled warmly and hugged the proud woman. "You're right going with Daffydd and his people. I envy you I think."

"I know I'm right Ma . . . Peter. **My** name is Tiaret," the freed woman answered proudly, her eyes lingering on bright blue eyes and a quirky grin.

"I will miss you Tiaret. Good journey and a happy life." Jefferson nodded. "Nathari, grow tall and make your mother proud.

"I will try very hard Suh," Nathari answered determinedly.

"A mother could ask for nothing more. Don't forget learn, learn everything you can." Peter smiled down.

"Eban, be careful courting your warrior woman. If you haven't noticed, she's bigger than you." Peter smiled into dancing blue eyes.

"The winters can be very cold beside the muddy water. She will need a good hunter and I can keep her very warm," Eban teased, delighting in the glare he was sent from the tall woman.

Peter and Thomas moved through the group, bidding private farewells to their distant kinsmen.

Thomas handed Trevin to Tiaret with a watery smile. "Be happy, take care of him. He's special. Him and Nathari both."

"I know, and they are even more special when they're together. Your path will be different young one, but even more special." Tiaret's dark eyes seemed to see a far away place. "Yes a very special path."

Tiaret turned and started walking after the departing warriors with Nathari beside her and Trevin looking back over her shoulder. Eban bounced over only to scamper back, avoiding the playful slap sent his way.

"Daffydd, you never said why it was you sought out the white people," Peter questioned.

"We were on a hunt," Daffydd answered, eyes lingering on Thomas for a moment before walking after his people.

"But what were you hunting?" Thomas called after him.

"A Tywysydd. We sought a Tywysdd for the young Gwyliwr. May the Hanging God bless you young Thomas ap Peter." Daffydd laughed and disappeared into the forest.

"No one will believe us, will they Tad?" Thomas whispered.

"No, I doubt they would." Peter held his son close, realizing how close he came to losing his son to a child hardly more than a babe.

"What did Daffydd mean they were hunting a guide for Trevin? And why did Daffydd call him a sentinel?" Thomas looked up at his father.

"Let me tell you a story from Cymru my grandfather Thomas told me. . . " Peter wrapped his arm around his son's bony shoulders and led him back towards the house.

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Author's notes:

Welsh words

Tad -father

Tadig-grandfather

cystal-so good

Tywysydd-guide

Gwyliwr-sentinel

Tiaret-lioness in one of the African dialects but I am uncertain which one.

Tabitha/Tiaret has three diagonal scars on each cheek. A custom still common in eastern Africa.

Slavery was still common through out the world during this period. The American Indians kept slaves, as did the Welsh, the English, Norsemen. I can't think of a single culture that didn't use slaves at some point in its history. Don't fool yourselves. Slavery is still widespread in many areas of the globe. Race, gender or social position has never been a deterrent. Slaves sold out of Africa into the Caribbean and US mainland in what was commonly called the triangle trade were most often war captives. I would never consider slavery to be a good thing but it was perhaps preferable to the alternative and ending up in someone's stew pot.


End file.
